


Panic Room

by WindInYourSail



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:59:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindInYourSail/pseuds/WindInYourSail
Summary: I had this random idea of Barba having a panic room in his office... I didn’t feel like creating an actual threat or following through with the aftermath. Just wanted to write this one little part as it keeps distracting me from working on other stories. I rarely write in first person, but didn’t exactly feel like creating an actual character. Hopefully now I can finish the other chapters I’m working on...





	Panic Room

   “Where’s Carmen?” I asked as we pass the empty desk on the way into his office. I had never been to his office when she wasn’t there and my mind wasn’t going to the bag containing our lunch that Barba was carrying.  
   He opened the door, holding it so I could enter. “Lunch.” And there was the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.  
   “That makes sense.” I know I’m blushing, but it’s not exactly controllable. He just makes me so anxious and self conscious... not in a bad way, just in a rambling, speak without thinking because I can’t think straight when I’m around him kind of way. _He must think I’m a complete idiot..._  
   I’ve worked along side the Special Victims Unit and by extension Barba, for close to a month now. It’s temporary. An internship... at thirty five. What possessed me to go back to school at thirty five? _Oh yeah, the whole doctor title in front of my name thing..._ I’m not even sure internship is the right word, though it was the word I used to convince Lieutenant Benson to let me help counsel victims. She hadn’t seemed too thrilled about the idea at first, but has slowly warmed up to me, at least I hope... I can never get a read on her.  
   I still have over a year left in my doctoral program and start clinical rotations next semester, but due to the focus I want to take with my dissertation, my faculty advisor suggested I gain some insight by volunteering with the survivors I want to eventually work with. He thought it would be beneficial in helping them if I could get a feel for what they were going through during this process. From police report to trial, though the case that’s currently on trial wasn’t one I was around for the initial report on.  
   “Do you want a water?” Barba ask, pulling me from my thoughts.  
   “Sure.” I smile. “Thanks again for doing this. I just want to get an overall feel for the process.”  
   “I’m just glad you were willing to meet for lunch.”  
   “When would you possibly have time if I couldn’t do lunch?” I blurt out of nerves and because I know how busy he is.  
   “Dinner possibly.” He smiles, handing me the bottle of water.  
   I return the smile, but don’t say anything for fear of what will come out of my mouth. _Dinner?_ What the hell did he mean by that? Was he just saying that meals were his only free time or did he mean we could have done dinner? _Seriously stop. He’s making a joke nothing more and you are an intelligent woman, please for the love of god start acting like it._  
   I pull out the list of questions I’ve prepared watching him take a bite of his sandwich. Before I even start to ask the first question he takes the list from me looking it over, gesturing for me to unwrap my own sandwich.  
   “I actually try to distance myself from the victims to a degree.” Oh, he’s just going to answer my questions without me having to ask... “It’s harder with the kinds of cases SVU brings me, but it makes me a more effective prosecutor. Not everything I have to do or make them do is pleasant.”  
   “How so?”  
   “Well making the victim retell their story to a room full of strangers isn’t something I’d like to do, but it’s necessary for the jury to understand what they’ve been through. Trial prep is almost worse, because it’s the first time they’ve had to sit through the questions. They’re understandably reluctant to answer at times. If I didn’t distance myself I’d never be able to pull the information out of them on the stand.”  
   “But still you must take some of it home with you?” I ask and for a change I’m not overthinking while sitting next to him. Just having a conversation.  
   “I take too much home with me...” Barba sighs and I take a small bite of my sandwich watching him scan the next question.  
   There’s a soft beeping sound coming from the space outside his office, pulling both our gazes out his windows before he can answer my next question.  
   “What is that?” I ask curiously.  
   Barba doesn’t respond. Instead he locks his office door and tells me to grab my bag as he takes my hand dragging me toward his bookshelves. He pulls out a book, punches a code into a keypad hidden behind it, and slides the book back as the shelf opens revealing a small panic room behind it. He’s still holding my hand and that could be why my heart is racing or it could be the fact that he’s pulled me into the space that was clearly meant for one or it could be because there is cause to hide in a panic room to begin with.  
   “Why do you have a panic room?” I whisper.  
   “The building is under tight security, but we still get threats. It comes with the job.” He shrugs, reaching passed me to flip on two small screens and picks up a phone, letting whoever is on the other end know where we both are.  
   One screen is flipping between areas of the building, I can only assume it’s security searching for the cause of alarm, while the other shows his office. Our barely touched lunch, still sitting on his round table and my jacket draped over the seat next to the one I had been sitting in moments before.  
   “There.” Barba said, pointing to the screen that had stopped flipping between cameras mounted throughout the building, settling on four heavily armed masked men making their way down a hall.  
   “How’d they get passed security?” I ask watching them on the screen, not even noticing that Barba is still holding my hand or maybe I’m squeezing his.  
   “I’m afraid I know as much as you do.”  
   “So we just wait in here?”  
   “Am I such terrible company?”  
   “No, I... I only meant... How will we know when we can leave?” I’m stammering like an idiot again and look up to find him smiling at me.  
   “The phone works both ways.”  
   “You enjoy doing that, don’t you?”  
   “Doing what?” Barba’s feigning innocence. He knows he makes me nervous. _Jesus, he knows I like him._ I can feel my face turning red and can only hope that the odd colored light in this room acts as camouflage.  
   “Where are they?” I ask, turning our attention back to the monitors, avoiding answering his question.  
   “The second floor.”  
   “It doesn’t look like anyone else is around, so that’s good.” I’ve turned so my back is to him so I can see better, and I can feel his breath on my neck.  
   “Sorry the space is so small. It’s really only designed for one. They’ve installed larger ones in the main areas for people who don’t have offices or happen to be out of theirs.  
   “I’d rather be in here with you.” I say without really thinking about how it sounds. “Why’d you have me grab my bag?” I’m tugging at it as it slides off my shoulder.  
   “I assume you have some form of ID in it and I didn’t want it sitting out in the open.” He says taking the bag from me and setting it on the small built in seat behind him. I’ve furrowed my brow so he elaborates. “I put away rapist, your ID would have your address on it.”  
   “Jesus...”  
   “What?”  
   “I just never would have thought about that.” I murmur, watching the screen flip to a new camera.  
   “They’re on the third floor.” Barba says, pointing to the monitor showing the space just outside his office.  
   “Should we stop talking?” I whisper, not knowing if the room is soundproof. I’ve turned to face him again but trip over his feet or mine, I’m not entirely sure which, and fall forward my hands catching myself on his shoulders while his hands land on my waist.  
   “The room is soundproof.” He smirks, making eye contact when I glance up at him.  
   “I promise I’m not normally this clumsy.” I sigh, straightening my dress back out mainly to give me something to do with my hands besides leave them on Barba’s shoulders. “Nor this asinine...” This I mutter under my breath, but his light chuckle tells me he’s heard me.  
   “If you want to sit you can.” He says gesturing to the small seat behind him.  
   As I realize that sitting will basically put my face in his crotch, I politely decline. I think he’s realized this too because he almost seems relieved.  
   I debate turning back around so that my face isn’t inches from his, but considering how gracefully the last turn went, I stay put. Neither of us say anything for what seems like a lifetime. And I can smell him. I mean this isn’t the first time I’ve noticed he smells nice. Sitting at his table when we sat to eat lunch, when I passed him as he held the door for me, countless times he’s even remotely been near me at the precinct... I’ve noticed his scent. Now it’s all I can focus on. There’s definitely a woodsy aroma, a hint of citrus, and my favorite... the lingering sent of coffee.  
   Barba softly says my name, and I glance up. “You ok?”  
   “Yeah,” I smile, “well... ok considering.”  
   “No one can get in here.” He says reassuringly, our eyes locking, and the only thing I can do at this point is nod.  
   “Why do I make you so anxious?” He’s smiling again.  
   “Because...” I groan, burying my face in my hands. I can’t explain and I can’t escape, so I opt to stay hidden behind my hands.  
   Again he says my name, coaxing me to look at him. Slowly, I remove my hands and bring my gaze back to his. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, only opening them again when I feel him push my hair gently behind my ear.  
   “Barba...” My voice cracks and any attempt to say more stops there, at least for me.  
   “I just hide my nerves better than you.” He hums, closing the minimal space between us, his lips tenderly pressing against mine. My arms reach around his neck, returning the embrace, my fingers slipping into the soft hair on the back of his head. I feel his hand in my own hair, the other on my back, pulling me closer. The kiss seemed to last awhile, but I can’t account for the actual time seeing as I was trying to remain standing, neither of us breaking the connection until a crash startled us back to reality.  
   Only our lips parted, both of us panting slightly as we looked for the source of the sound.  
   “They’re in my office.” Barba whispers, relaxing his hold on me so I can turn to see the monitors. The men have broken the glass on the door of his office so they could unlock it and gain access.  
   “Is that camera always on in your office?” Why this is the question I’ve chosen to ask, I’m not entirely sure.  
   “No. It’s only so we can see if anyone is out there from inside the panic room. Security doesn’t even have access to it, too many private conversations happen in my office for there to be a camera.”  
   “Should you let them know where they are then?” I ask, watching the men move through his office, one of which is standing just on the other side of bookshelf, mere feet from us.  
   “I’m pretty sure they know.” Barba replies, and I glance to the other monitor that shows swat closing in, making their way into the space outside his office.  
   “He can’t be far.” One of the men says noticing our lunch, his voice filling the small space Barba and I are confined in.  
   “They’re here for you?” I can’t hide the fear in my voice.  
   “It seems so.” His voice betrays his own concern.  
   We watch, neither of us speaking as swat surrounds Barba’s office. Some sort of smoke bomb or tear gas is thrown in the room and the monitor turns white.  
   “Will that get in here?” I ask.  
   “No, it has it’s own ventilation system.”  
   I nod and squeeze him tightly when we hear gunshots and yelling over the microphone in the camera. Barba’s arms wrap around me, holding me close as I bury my face in his chest, hoping the room is bulletproof. I assume it is.  
   “Barba...” I whisper once it’s quiet.  
   “You ok?” He looks concerned as I look up to meet his eyes again.  
   “Yes, you?  
   “I am.” He half smiles before pressing his lips to mine again.  
   We can hear members of swat talking to each other and restraining at least a couple of the intruders, but our lips don’t part. My thumb is caressing his cheek, my fingers resting in the hair behind his ear. His fingers trapped tightly in my hair just at the nape of my neck. Tongues colliding, hands roaming, both of us breathing heavily as soft sounds vibrate between our mouths.  
   I’m startled when the phone rings and pull back panting slightly. Barba smiles and picks up the receiver, his breath is labored too, but he steadies himself quickly as he again talks to whoever is on the other end.  
   “He gave the all clear.”  
   “Oh...” I’m sure I sound like I don’t want to leave this small space that forces my body to touch his anytime I shift positions. Mainly, I’m afraid that this kissing we’ve been doing is situational and not something that will continue once we leave this room.  
   Barba starts to enter to code to open the door, but stops and turns to me again. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”  
   “Like a date?” _And I’m an idiot again..._  
   “I’d hope so.” He smiles and I’m comforted that he at least seems to find my insecurity amusing.  
   “I’d like that.” I smile, vowing to not be my nervous rambling self around him at dinner. It should be easier now that I no longer need to hide the fact that I like him... _Right?_


End file.
